


Back and Forth

by linguale



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Robin (Comics), Superboy (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Developing Relationship, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Relationship Study, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 06:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15383058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linguale/pseuds/linguale
Summary: “What if,” Kon clears his throat, “what if we just do this again.” He hates how nonchalant that sounds, the best thing in his life being reduced to “this”, but the months passing of forced contact kept the break tender like a skinned knee rubbing on pants when walking and sitting.“What? You mean we get back together because we don’t know how to be friends anymore? Doesn’t that sound stupid?”Kon looks down at their hands. “Yeah, you’re right. That was… that was a bad idea. Forget it.” Even though he wants to explain that he’s still in love with Tim and wants to try again and try harder.--Friends to lovers to the weird space in between. Lather, rinse, repeat.





	Back and Forth

**Author's Note:**

> of course the first thing i write after a long time is 1. timkon, the millennial dipshits of my heart 2. a oneshot longer than everything else i've written, even if it's still tiny. 
> 
> who's broken up with someone and didn't leave it a clean break because you still love and care for them, but the tension is still weird because you don't know how you both interacted before?
> 
> there's a lot of variations of fuck bc that's a big mood.

“Hey,” Tim cracks an eye open to find Kon sitting next to the bed, closes it again and sighs. “How’s your arm?” 

 

Tim lifts his arm. “How do you think?” Kon winces; the cast on the right wrist isn’t easy to miss. He sighs again, exhausted instead of exasperation; he vaguely remembers being given painkillers, but he’s also been at the hospital for a few hours. They only gave him a bed after having to wake him up every time a nurse or doctor needed to talk with him, always in disbelief that he could sleep while his wrist was broken. Tim also hasn’t slept a full night for the last two weeks—call it the workaholic side of him. It’s also the reason he’s here in the first place, making the amateur mistake of trying to catch himself with his hands when he fell from his chair.

 

Amateur. Fucking. Mistake. God, Tim feels so stupid.

 

“Why are you even here? Don’t you have anything better to do?” Tim knows the sun’s up, it’s gotta be at least eight or nine. Kon should have a class, but hospitals also seem to make the seconds stretch like taffy. He doesn’t know what day it is anymore. Maybe Tim’s only been here for ten minutes instead of four hours.

 

“Not when it’s about you.” Kon clicks his tongue. “You should know better than that, Tim.”

 

“Do I?” Tim huffs, finally opening his eyes just to rolls them and give Kon a bored look. “These last few months? Shit’s been so weird with us, what else am I supposed to think.”

 

Kon rests his elbows on the edge of the bed, putting his head in his hands. “Fuck, I know,” it comes out forcefully, “when isn’t it weird.” Tim thinks he hears a  _ “Jesus Christ” _  under his breath. “I just want this to stop.”

 

“Me too.” Tim tries to sigh  _ again _ , but it comes out as a yawn. He’s so tired of this tension that’s thicker than the Amazon Forest. “Is this why everyone says you can’t be friends with your exes? Not like that could happen with our friends.”

 

“Why does it have to be weird though? It’s like the more we try to be normal the more fucked up it gets.”

 

“Because we don’t know what normal is anymore. You’d think not doing PDA would be it.”

 

Kon scoffs. “You’d think six months of us being broken up would help.” Tim laughs at that and when Kon lifts his head, Tim’s still smiling at him. Kon lets his arms fall on the bed and takes a deep breath, pushes the air out, and smiles back. “I miss you.”

 

Tim’s smile turns sad, the edges droop and his brow furrows. “I miss you too.” He rests his good hand on Kon’s and tightens his fingers slightly, a softer grip than a baby’s palmar grasp. “God, I fucking miss you; why can’t we get our heads out of our asses and figure this out?” His hold tightens, so Kon turns his hand so their palms meet and the side of his thumb is pressing on Tim’s pinky. “It was mutual, so why is us being friends harder than us being together.”

 

He shrugs. Kon doesn’t have that answer and that question has been weighing on his mind for the last couple of months. He moves his thumb to the other side of his hand so their thumbs meet. Not intertwining fingers, but something. 

 

There’s silence for forever it feels like, probably only a few minutes, but their hands don’t move; Tim’s grip gets a little tighter so Kon can actually feel the fingertips on the top of his hand.

 

“What if,” Kon clears his throat, “what if we just do this again.” He hates how nonchalant that sounds, the best thing in his life being reduced to “this”, but the months passing with seemingly forced contact kept the break tender like a skinned knee rubbing on pants when walking and sitting.

 

“What? You mean we get back together because we don’t know how to be friends anymore? Doesn’t that sound stupid?”

 

Kon looks down at their hands. “Yeah, you’re right. That was… that was a bad idea. Forget it.” Even though he wants to explain that he’s still in love with Tim and wants to try again and try harder. “I still love you.” Kon mumbles. 

 

“I know,” Tim’s smile is sweet, “and I still love you. Always will. We’ll figure this out. Whatever ends up happening.”  _ We’re okay _  goes unspoken. His eyes start to droop, he really needs to sleep when he gets home. “Thanks for coming to see me.”

 

“I’ll always be there for you. Except when you don’t tell me that you broke your fucking wrist and are at the hospital. How’d you even get yourself here?”

 

Tim clicks his tongue. “Well I was planning on driving, but I can’t change gears like this and it was uncomfortable reaching over with my left arm.” That sounds like he really tried to drive himself to the emergency room with a broken wrist. Maybe he didn’t get as far as out of the parking spot. Hopefully. “Ended up getting a Lyft.”

 

“They were still out? Ass o’clock on a weekday?”

 

“I stopped questioning what people do at ass o’clock for there to be drivers around. It worked out for the best, otherwise I’d have to call you or Cassie to give me a ride and I would’ve felt horrible about waking either of you. God knows I’d die before having Bart drive me.” They had a rule between them to never let Bart again with how many cars he’s totaled.

 

Never again.

 

Kon snorts. “Let me take you back then.” He stands up and moves out of the way so Tim can swing his legs over, their hands releasing. “They need anything else from you?”

 

“Nope, just waiting on a doctor’s note for work. Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t remember if I even asked. It’s been a long night. Morning. Everything.” Tim pauses to think and yawns. “I really need to sleep.”

 

“Yeah, like that’s new. We’ll stop by the nurse’s desk.” Kon holds his arms out so Tim doesn’t fall whenever he gets up.

 

Tim nods and moves his legs to stand up and stretches. He winces when his right arm twinges since his wrist is still swollen in the cast. “How did you know I was even here?”

 

“Tam. Said you left a voicemail sounding like you were high—you know that voice you have when you haven’t slept in a couple days? Anyway, she said that you had to ‘hit up the emergency room.’” Kon does the air quotes as he says it and Tim snorts. He doesn’t remember his exact words, that doesn’t sound completely wrong. “And that you probably did something stupid, but she was busy covering your ass to come get you. The nurses let me through since I’m still your emergency contact.”

 

Tam knows him too well, both on him doing something stupid in the first place and calling Kon to probably prevent further “something stupids” from happening. “Sounds about right.” 

 

There’s more silence as they walk. At least it’s comfortable silence now, they already seem more bearable. “Do you really need a doctor’s note? You’re on the board of directors. You were the interim CEO when Bruce fucked off.” 

 

Tim shrugs. “I don’t even know anymore. Better safe than sorry. And it’s really for Tam so she doesn’t kick my ass when I come back tomorrow.” 

 

“She’ll still kick your ass.” Kon says immediately and they both laugh.

 

“Oh god, you’re right. You’re so right. Will you come be my witness?”

 

“Witness for what, your inevitable doom?”

 

Tim chokes and stutters. “Well, I meant witness for me being in the hospital, but yeah that too while we’re at it.” He resigns to his fate. Tam absolutely hates any kind of surprises, and working for Tim hasn’t helped with that in the slightest. Exposure therapy is clearly not the answer in this case. 

 

They make quick work at the nurse’s desk. The note was apparently sitting there for the last thirty minutes and the nurse assumed Kon came just to pick up Tim and didn’t expect them to have a deep conversation about their degrading relationship. 

 

“Oops.” Tim says quietly when they walk outside. “Well at least I know I asked for it now.”

 

Kon sniggers and shakes his head. “You wanna grab breakfast? I bet you haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday.” He opens the passenger door for Tim to crawl in.

 

“Just you and me?” Tim asks when Kon gets in the driver’s seat.

 

“Yeah, you and me. It hasn’t been just us in ages. Since, you know,” Kon shrugs a shoulder, “it’s been a while.”

 

Tim nods. “That sounds nice.”

 

Kon hesitates before starting the car, nodding to himself. Tim’s about to ask what’s going on when Kon stretches over the center console and presses a kiss to his hair. He sits stunned while Kon buckles his seatbelt and starts the engine. “What?” Kon asks with a stupid smirk on his face.

 

Tim grins and shakes his head. “You’re the fucking worst. Can’t believe I told you I missed you. I take that back, I hate you.”

 

Kon tries to look innocent, pushing out his bottom lip like he’s pouting, but it’s exaggerated. “No idea what that could possibly mean.” He goes back to beaming and pops the car in reverse. “Moon Rise okay?”

 

Their little brunch place, a tiny little cafe stuck between a driving school and a thrift store, not even Cassie or Bart know about it. “Yeah, sounds good.”

 

Things already feel better. Maybe instead of a plaster over a gushing wound, it’s stitched and just starting to heal. Stitches can be ripped out and torn, but it’s the start to a process. Maybe that’s too corny, Tim thinks; way too cliché, considering human relationships are much more complicated. His relationship with Kon is complicated times three and carry the four somewhere in that problem. 

 

Whatever, this moment feels good, he’ll savor it.

 

Tim rolls his window down knowing it’ll piss off Kon since the air-conditioning is on. He hears Kon take a sharp inhale and sees Kon’s fingers twitching on the steering wheel trying to stop himself from rolling up the window from his controls on the door. 

 

“God, and you said I was the worst.” Kon tries to shove Tim’s head, but hits the headrest instead when Tim ducks. 

 

Tim punches his shoulder. “Pay attention to the road, Mister ‘Let’s Try This Again’.” He says it as a jab, but it’s not a bad idea. Later, when they figure themselves out again.

 

Kon has his elbow on the center console with his fingers resting on the gear shift, ready to shift to second when the light turns green. He knows he shouldn’t, but he puts his hand over Kon’s wrist. Kon’s surprised enough for the light to turn and the car stutters off when his foot jerks off the clutch. He mumbles “fuck” as he starts the car again while the cars behind start honking, gets it up to third before he puts his arm back, next to Tim’s now. Tim sets his hand on Kon’s forearm. 

 

Like he said, the moment’s good.

**Author's Note:**

> you ever get so tired at looking at something and click post while yelling "fuck it".


End file.
